


who cares it's an itachi omorashi story

by dinosaurspice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Desperation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Omorashi, Ugh, i guess i write piss stories now, some wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurspice/pseuds/dinosaurspice
Summary: Holding it is just another self-imposed punishment. (The conclusion of "Self-flagellation.")





	who cares it's an itachi omorashi story

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I have no excuse.

There was one other need that Itachi tried to deny himself—of course there was. Emptying one’s bladder usually occupied very little space in a person’s mind. It had to be done, so it was done. Breathing and moving were the same. But so was eating, and Itachi was already neurotic about that. This one was new; he’d been harming and denying himself in other ways for years now. 

It happened on a whim. He was keeping watch while Kisame slept off a recent injury when the first hint of an urge whispered at the back of his mind. No matter, he thought, he would hold it for at least a few hours. Then, he wondered—how long _could_ he hold it? He decided now was the time to find out. He discovered that he was right: nearly four hours passed without so much as a second thought to his bladder. Long hours of ANBU guard duty had made him accustomed to this sort of denial. He drank some water until he felt a twinge, but another two hours passed without event. Normally, this would be the time when he’d wake Kisame for his shift; however, Kisame was injured, and Itachi was preoccupied with his secret experiment and so did not mind staying awake longer.

Seven hours after Itachi began his test, eight hours into his watch, he felt a distinct, persistent urge to go. His bladder was full and heavy, and the discomfort gave him the same buzz of satisfaction, a dark chastening, that pinching and scratching himself did. He would endure this.

He shifted his weight where he sat on the ground, easing the pressure slightly. This helped for a while, less than half an hour, but his bladder continued to expand until the waistband of his pants felt unbearably tight. So Itachi opened the top of his pants to give himself more room, and he ran his hand over his belly. His bladder was a hard bulge under his palm; just to see what would happen, he pressed slightly on that bulge. He nearly leaked—he swiftly clenched that internal muscle to keep the liquid in. 

Itachi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and wiggled his hips a little, grinding into the ground just enough for him to regain his control. He could wake Kisame now; Kisame would begin his watch, giving Itachi time to step away to relieve himself before going to bed. But he would not. He would last the night.

Time seemed to slow frustratingly down. Twenty minutes felt like another hour, and now the night’s chill and dew made Itachi shiver slightly, exacerbating his urgency. When he finally passed his eighth hour of holding, Itachi began to feel a bit sick. He sat now on his feet with his thighs pressed together, trying not to grab himself. He was hard, but not out of any excitement. He was miserable and in pain; all the erection did was help hold his urine in.

Half way to his ninth hour, a small leak escaped him, and his hand shot to his groin. He kept a tight grip on himself through his clothes, afraid that letting go would open the floodgates. Fifteen minutes passed, and Itachi was sure that he would not last till dawn. His eyes were screwed shut; his pulse pounded in his ears and in his aching, swollen bladder. He knew he was doing a rubbish job of keeping watch, but now he was too far gone to move.

Another leak trickled past his clamped hand, and Itachi’s eyes opened wide. This was it. He had to move now or lose himself. He stood as slowly as possible so as not to jostle his bladder, but a warm burst shot down his leg anyway. Itachi was sure that his pants were wet, but their dark color plus the cover of his Akatsuki coat gave him enough reassurance that he wouldn’t be humiliated. He did not bother to wake Kisame. He hobbled a few paces away from the campsite, his fist still tight between his legs, and he stopped behind a tree when he thought he might leak again. His pants were already undone, so he simply pulled himself out of his underwear and released with a loud sigh. The stream was hot and thick, and he shivered with the pleasure of relief.

When he was finally done, he roused Kisame. They had only another three hours until dawn, but now Itachi was satiated and exhausted. He would take the little rest he could get.


End file.
